


Such a Vast Multitude

by xenakis



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fanart, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-26
Updated: 2009-06-26
Packaged: 2017-10-02 10:14:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xenakis/pseuds/xenakis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a voice whispering in his head. It speaks of the land stretching beyond the horizon, of people miles and miles apart and yet united as one, of his own face, known and beloved to all. It speaks of the world, limitless and his.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Such a Vast Multitude

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many thanks to [Lilith](http://lilithilien.dreamwidth.org/) for beta and hand-holding!
> 
> Originally posted on [DW](http://xenakis.dreamwidth.org/1274.html#cutid1).

_Do you not think it a matter worthy of lamentation that, _   
_when there is such a vast multitude of worlds, _   
_we have not yet conquered one?_

Alexander the Great, from _On the Tranquillity of the Mind_, by Plutarch

 

*****

One year to the day after he ascends to the throne, Arthur stands on the front steps of the castle while the courtyard fills with hundreds of knights, soldiers, craftsmen and servants, slowly giving shape to Camelot’s army. _Arthur’s_ army. His heart catches in his chest.

It doesn’t last though. Arthur takes a deep breath and thinks _Finally._

In this past month of preparation, he feels like he has been settling into his own skin, at last. In the newfound clarity of his mind, he thinks he can now make out the words a voice has been murmuring all his life, in the depth of his soul. It speaks of the land stretching over the horizon, of people miles and miles apart and yet united as one, of his own face, known and beloved to all. It speaks of the world, limitless and _his. _

He should be scared of the whispers, Arthur knows this. But the voice in his head sounds like his own, and it speaks with such confidence, such certainty, as if there is no doubt that what it says shall pass. As if it already has.

Sometimes, the voice sounds like Merlin’s, and Arthur’s resolve hardens tenfold.

Two steps above him, the doors of the castle open. Without turning, Arthur hears the soft rustle of expensive fabric. It approaches, then stops. Below, stable boys are bringing the knights their horses, and the sound of hooves hitting cobblestones fills the courtyard. There is a soft, almost inaudible gasp behind him and Arthur turns and looks up. Merlin is gazing at the yard with an overcome look on his face. It’s a rare expression for him these days. Merlin the Court Sorcerer and Royal Advisor bears little resemblance to Merlin the Servant. Gone is the boy with a secret hiding behind a veil of clumsy innocence. In its place has grown a man deservedly proud of his powers and utterly convinced of the rightness of his mission. He is where he needs to be, by Arthur’s side, and he guards that position with a fierceness more impressive than the billowing robes he now wears

  
Merlin the Friend has never changed, though, and it is this Merlin that finds his eyes now.

“We really are doing this, then,” he says, a little breathless. It isn’t a question.

“You came up with the plan, Merlin. Now is a little late to tell me you’re having doubts,” Arthur replies wryly.

“I did not!” Merlin scoffs. “I merely suggested you find something to do before you drove yourself and everyone at court insane with boredom. Only you could have taken that counsel to such ridiculous extremes.” But his mock-complaining tone fades back to seriousness, quickly. “I don’t have any doubts, Arthur. We are doing this. We _have_ to do this.”

Arthur nods and turns to the courtyard once more. He feels giddy, admiring the rows of soldiers forming at his feet. “Look at them, Merlin! Uniting all of Albion won’t take us all that long, with such strength as this!” He lets out a long, dramatic sigh “Whatever shall we do once it is all over?” Merlin snorts behind him. “Well,” Arthur continues, teasing, “we could always build boats, I suppose. Cross over into Gaul…”  
_  
_He is turning a smirk towards Merlin when his vision blurs.

  
*****

_The air around him is suddenly dry and bone-deep warm, the sunlight blinding. He can taste a thousand strange smells on his tongue. The castle has disappeared. Instead, he stands on a stair among rows of impossibly tall columns lining the edges of a soberly ornamented building. He stares up at Merlin, still standing two steps above. He is wearing a light armor, the design foreign but the crimson of the cape utterly familiar. Arthur’s own garments are changed also. He holds a heavy helmet in his arms; his grip on it is relaxed, practiced._

Merlin is laughing, shaking his head in disbelief. He says, in a strange tongue Arthur knows as if he’d learned it in the cradle: “Really, Alexandros, when there is no more land for you to walk and all the seas are yours, will you have me build you wings to challenge the Gods themselves?” His smile is fond and intimate, his eyes bright with pride.  
_  
_  
*****

  
Arthur blinks and an instant later, feels a cool breeze on the air and a sword at his side. He can hear the clamor rising from the courtyard once more. It takes him a moment to recognize that they are chanting his name. _My other name_, he thinks distractedly.

Above him, Merlin’s gaze is unchanged.

“Hephaestion…” Arthur begins.

And Merlin's eyes say _Finally_.  
_  
_  
_*****_


End file.
